A Lifetime of Learning
by MeiDarkreign
Summary: Spanning the seven years after the Cell games, Vegeta has decided to be a father to his son, but refuses to be anything to Bulma. As the years pass by, will the two finally succumb to the smoldering passion leftover from years ago?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, I'm back as promised. This is sort of a sequel to "A Week Left Wanting" but I am trying to write it as canon as possible, so it pretty much stands alone. This story will likely be longer than four chapters, and will have a bit more drama and romance than actual naughtiness; but don't worry, there will come a time for that as well. Please read and review, and I hope you enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama.

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He had watched his son die, his own flesh and blood. It was not the helplessness he felt, no it was the regret that caused such anger to well up inside him. All his son had ever wanted from him was recognition, and he had been too proud to grant him even that. They had brought the youth back to life, those Earthlings and their Dragonballs, and he had watched him leave for his own time. He bade him farewell in his own way, but the regret refused to fade.

He remembered when Trunks had first been born. In fact, he remembered the whole process quite vividly. It had been some time after he and Bulma, that strong-willed human female, had coupled. It was not a long relationship, if it could even be called that, and they had been apart for weeks when she finally told him she was with child. It was an odd feeling that had seeped into his veins. Mostly, it was disbelief that he was going to reproduce, but a small part of him was afraid. His father had done the best he could, but despite everything he still hated the man. Someone weak enough to fall to the hands of Frieza could never be respected. He was afraid his child would reject him because he was not the strongest. In a way, the knowledge of his reproduction had fueled his training even further.

It had been a normal day when his son was born. The woman went into labor a few weeks premature, causing the whole house to be in an uproar. All he heard of it was a quick message left by Bunny, the woman's mother, telling him of the situation. His body went dead cold at that moment. He would finally have his little prince or princess. It was a shocking reality. For the first time, he felt concern for someone other than himself. It had been that concern that took him away from his training and to the hospital waiting room.

Hours passed as he silently paced. The woman's father had tried to start up inane conversation multiple times, but he cared not for anything but his child. Finally, Bunny emerged from the delivery room and told both him and Dr. Briefs to come and see the new baby boy. A son. Yes, he would not have rejected a daughter, but a son was what every man wished for to carry on his legacy. He walked hurriedly into the room where Bulma and his son were located. She looked very tired, and she held a tiny bundle in her arms. It hurt him some, as a look of surprise came over her face at his presence. But the look was soon replaced with a tired smile.

"Do you want to hold him?" she had asked of him. Hesitantly, he removed the bundle from her arms and cradled it within his own. The boy was sleeping, a small and fragile being. And he was his own blood. The fear overwhelmed him. No, he was not fit to be a father. He needed to train, to become the strongest warrior, and a son would detract from that goal. He handed the bundle back to the woman and turned very quickly to leave. "Wait, we need to name him," she had said. "Whatever you want," he replied. Not two minutes later, he forced Dr. Briefs to tell him where the capsule was for a spacecraft and left to finish his training in space. The further away from the boy and his mother, the better.

That had been little over a year ago. Now he knew he could not abandon the boy…or his mother. Despite every reservation he had, it was necessary. Kakarrot was no longer among the living, which made him the strongest; no, made him the second strongest next to Kakarrot's son. It was unacceptable, but he had no desire to best the boy. Not when his son would be able to do so. Yes, he had seen the benefits of mixing Saiyan blood with humans, and he knew his boy was no exception. It was the reason he gave himself for accepting his son, because he knew it would be the one that would force him not to abandon him again. He knew, somewhere, he deeply cared for his son, and even for the mother, but his rational mind would rip through such sentiments upon any lengthy thought on the matter. But he would do the honorable thing.

After Cell had been destroyed, he had left the battlefield and found himself atop a mountain, contemplating these very thoughts. A cold wind whipped across his body, but he ignored it. He knew he had to stay close to his son in order to train him, which meant living at the Capsule Corp. house. Which meant living in proximity with the mother. She was by no means any less desirable than she had been when they had coupled, but there was the added fear that she may require more from him than his mere presence.

Earthlings had a ceremony called "marriage" which bound two individuals together in a civil union for, theoretically, the rest of their lives. Something similar had been in place on Planet Vegeta, but it was less about the man and woman coming together as it was about producing offspring. It was also temporary. The man and woman would strike a deal and commit themselves to one another until a child was produced. Afterwards, it could be decided whether or not the parents wished to stay together; they rarely did. His mother had been an exception.

He could not have been more than a few years old when she died, but he remembered the pain of it. Frieza had demanded something of her, but she refused. That was what his father had told him, the young prince. Perhaps he may have been less cold if his mother had lived longer than she did, but it was pointless to dwell on the past. It was the present that concerned him.

Marriage seemed a particularly nasty human ritual, and he wanted no part in it. Bound to one woman, especially _that_ woman, was perfectly out of the question. Unfaithfulness would also be out of the question. It was a point of pride in the royal family to take only one mate. To choose the woman that would bear your children and would be a suitable queen was part of the title. If his father had been rid of his mother shortly after his birth, it would have reflected poorly on the king's judgment. The same could be said of him, but he had never intended on making Bulma his permanent mate. And if he was cornered into a marriage, his pride would prevent him from seeking pleasure elsewhere. He would be trapped, and he would have none of it.

But she would be in his life. Mothers were terribly protective of their young, and he knew Bulma would be no different. The task ahead was going to be difficult, but he was up to the challenge.

***

For a few days, he had no opportunity to fulfill his task. His son, from the future, had recently left for his own time, and the days after had been filled with endless cycles of sadness and joy. It was almost sickening. Some man, Hercule Satan, had claimed he had defeated Cell, and the public was eating it up. Celebrations were being held all over, even in West City. Mourning also took place for Kakarrot's death, but it was far more localized than the celebrations. Amidst everything, he had not found a suitable time to speak with the woman alone. Now the celebrations around Capsule Corp. had finally died down, and he could finally speak his mind.

Thinking the task and performing it were two separate challenges entirely. It was against every fiber of his being to make requests of anyone, except when they were in the form of a threat. He felt very out of place. He felt as though he should be wearing his armor, readying himself for battle. Instead, he was wearing leisure clothes and felt like death warmed over. That woman, though physically weak, had a will to match the most formidable Saiyan female. It was one of the reasons he had been so attracted to her, still was so attracted to her. Now, it was the reason for his apprehension.

She was in her workroom, tapping away at something on her computer. The boy must have been put to sleep already. It was like her to work until midnight if something was not working just as she wanted. How did she ever manage sleep if she stayed up late and was woken at odd times during the night by the cries of the babe? She vexed him, damn her.

He gently rapped on the door before entering. She turned from her station to face him. He liked what she had done with her hair. The second time he had been to Earth, her hair looked like a giant puffball. Fortunately, an accident had occurred one day not long after and she had been forced to trim and straighten it. Though similar to the style she had had when they had coupled, this new style seemed a bit more functional. And it pleased him. She was always a very practical woman, which made him feel less guilty about bedding her. Any other woman might have cloyed for attention at every waking moment, but she simply went about her life as though nothing had changed between them.

"Vegeta?" He heard her say softly. He shook his head to rid him of his thoughts.

"Bulma…I need to speak with you." His heart rate jumped rapidly. This was humiliating, but it had to be done.

She seemed concerned and rose from her chair, closing the gap between them. "What is it?" He rarely used her name, and never asked so civilly to speak with her on any matter. It was not surprising she should feel concern.

"I wish to remain here for the foreseeable future." The look of concern left her face.

"Oh, is that all? I figured you would. We have everything you would every need: gravity room, lots of food, geniuses to fix whatever you might break…all the essentials."

His throat threatened to tense up and rob him of his speech. It had to be done. "That may be so, but you must understand my reason for the request." He took in a breath and released it slowly, gathering the courage to utter what he never expected he would ever utter. "I have discovered that I cannot remain apart from my son. When Trunks was killed by Cell, something snapped, and I know it cannot be repaired. Try as I might, I have realized my son needs his father, needs his guidance and that is the reason I have made my request."

She might have fainted if he had not grabbed her at the waist. Sheer disbelief washed over her as she took in his words. Slowly, her body relaxed and she was able to straighten herself without falling. She placed a hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes.

"Vegeta.." He allowed the kiss. It was very soft, very loving. He could have lost himself in it, if he wanted. But he had one other task to accomplish as well. He gently parted her from him and blanked his face of emotion.

"Understand this as well. I wish to remain for my son, but do not think there is anything between us." He could see a few tears well up at the corners of her eyes, but they did not fall. She gave a very soft nod and he took his leave. As the door closed behind him, he heard:

"It's enough."

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A/N: Thanks for reading. I will be busy with schoolwork pretty much until Christmas Break, but I will try to update once or twice before then. Sorry for any delays that may occur.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. As promised, here is an update before the holiday season. I hope to have another up before Christmas, but I cannot guarantee it. For those fans who enjoyed "A Week Left Wanting" I have a nice present for all of you. Please enjoy. :)

WARNING: For Mature Adults Only.

DISCLAIMER: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama.

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The boy would not cease his infernal racket. _Damn her_. That woman had left the boy in his care as she and her parents attended a company function. Rather, she had told him this not a minute before she left, and he was now stuck with the responsibility of watching his son. He supposed this was a form of spite from his rejecting her as his mate. Women were terribly emotional creatures, and often chose poor times to enact their revenge. He did not know the first thing about children. That had not stopped him from trying, however.

The woman had mentioned a book with all the information he would need, and he had found it promptly upon entering his son's room. Barely ten minutes after the woman had left, Trunks had begun to cry loudly, and he had tried to discern the reasoning behind it. Unfortunately, many of the reasons had been unsavory at best. But, after checking the boy's temperature, checking his diaper—an experience he _never_ wanted to partake in again—and verified his having been fed, his son was still at it.

He could not imagine human children this loud. Even in the newly annexed gravity room he had still heard the boy's cries. If he did not quell them soon, he was afraid he may catch hell for poor parenting skills. But he was not supposed to have the skills anyway! He was the Prince of all Saiyans. He should have servants to care for the child for him. Even then, Saiyan children were not mollycoddled. They either learned to be independent, or they died. Well, letting his son die was certainly not an option, and his mother had already done irreparable harm in caring for the boy so closely since birth. It was just another challenge.

Arms crossed, he stood at the side of his son's crib and stared down at the infant. "You make far too much noise for something so small, my son." Suddenly the crying stopped. His son looked up at him quizzically. "Oh, so you wish for me to speak to you, is that it?" A smile crossed the boy's face and he wiggled his arms in an affirmative manner. "As you wish. Perhaps you would enjoy a few tales from ancient Saiyan battles." The boy still moved in the affirmative, so he settled down in the chair next to the crib and began reciting what he remembered from what little schooling he had had. His son seemed to enjoy ever word.

***

She wondered if Vegeta had even bothered checking on Trunks. Unfortunately, she had been so busy with her work that she had forgotten to hire a baby-sitter for her son, which left Vegeta the only one around to take care of him. And that was not a very caring man. She sighed as she slipped off her coat and bid her parents a good night. There was a very good chance she would need to change Trunks' diaper and then quiet him back to sleep after the deed had been done. Though, she did find it odd that her son had not been crying as soon as she entered the house.

As she entered the nursery she had to stop herself from gasping aloud. Next to the crib sat the prince, a hand supporting his chin, who was fast asleep. In the crib, her son was doing the same. No odd smells were coming from him, and he was bundled up, shoddily as it were. _Vegeta…_ It had to have been him. Even though he had expressed desire to raise his son, she never imagined he would do any of the dirty work. He surprised her the longer she knew him. Smiling, she grabbed a blanket and gently laid in over Vegeta and softly pressed a kiss to his forehead. _Good night, my princes._

***

He rubbed his neck and attempted to remove the horrible twinge, to no avail. Served him right, he supposed, for falling asleep in such an awkward position. It had taken awhile for the boy to drift to sleep, so he had gone through a few hours of Saiyan tales before his son finally quieted. By that time, he too was tired and felt the chair was perfectly comfortable for a short rest. That short rest had turned into a full night's sleep. And now he would pay for it for the rest of the day with a crick in his neck. A slight annoyance, at best, but certainly more than enough to complain about. By scent alone he had determined the woman had placed the blanket over him, so she should be responsible for his annoyance.

"Woman, why did you not wake me last night?" He stepped into the workroom and leaned against the doorway, staring at the female.

Bulma turned to look at him. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Yes, well now my neck is sore and I smell like baby powder." She laughed. He did not see what was so amusing.

"Thank you, Vegeta. You know, you might actually be a decent father after all."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you mean 'what is that supposed to mean'? It means you actually do care about your son. I checked on him last night while you were asleep, and he had been wrapped up and his diaper had been changed—which, by the way, you will never live down—so it's fair to say you cannot be all that bad of a father."

He frowned and took a step forward. "None of that constitutes a father's role. Caring for the child's personal needs is not my place. My place is the instructor and discipliner, nothing more. As a child, my son can have nothing to do with me. Until he can move about completely unassisted, I should have nothing to do with him. Last night was simply unavoidable. But do not expect it to happen again." Instead of leaving, as he usually did, he waited for her reply.

"This time was necessary, but I will try to remember that from now on. But you cannot be completely irresponsible. Try as you might, if your son needs you, I believe you will do what is in his best interest." Her voice had hardened significantly. Ah, he had triggered her maternal instinct. She was beautiful when she was angry with him.

That realization caused him to "humpf" and leave the workroom. Try as he might, his attraction to that woman had not dissipated over the last few years. If anything, it had grown stronger. And it was not simply physical. Her wit could match his own wit, and it gave him an odd pleasure to argue. But she was an unnecessary distraction.

***

"Shit!" It was barely audible through the gravity room door, but he heard the exclamation well enough. He had been expecting it, especially because it had been preceded by a sonorous boom in the direction of the workroom. What he had not expected, however, was the dent to the woman's life-force.

Almost instinctively, he bolted from the gravity room and wrenched open the workroom door, recoiling as he choked on black smoke. The room was extremely hot, probably due to the enormous electrical fire spreading throughout the equipment. He released a wave of ki, enough to remove the flames but not enough to destroy the building. As the smoke cleared, he found the woman against the far wall, fire extinguisher in one hand. She was injured.

She managed a glance towards him, but then collapsed to the ground. He rushed over to her and quickly removed her from the room. That smoke could be doing her no good. He gave her a once over and discovered a bad burn to her leg that had scorched her jeans to her skin. Not enough to cause her to pass out, so it must have been the smoke. By his standards, it was a very mild injury, probably not worth the recognition. By human standards, she needed help. And he was not qualified to treat such injuries.

Of course her parents had chosen this exact week to take a vacation. They had taken Trunks with them, which was a blessing, but now there was no one here to care for the woman's injuries. He would need to take her to a hospital.

He lifted her light body and took flight once outside, trying to remember where the nearest hospital was located. Despite the fact that such menial labor was beneath him, he felt genuinely concerned for the woman's well-being. Perhaps that was why he had threatened physical violence to the poor taxi driver if he did not give him proper directions. The hospital finally came within view and he wasted no time making a grand scene. The nurses shuddered just at the sight of him, and were very quick to take the woman to a room to be seen immediately. And they were not about to tell him to remain in the waiting room. He found, however, he would need to.

As the doctors came in and diagnosed her, they started treating her for smoke inhalation and began removing her pants. That was all well and good until they reached the burn; they removed flesh with fabric. His stomach had clenched very violently at that point and he knew the better part of valor would be to wait outside. Injuries were very common to him, but he believed it was more the person they belonged to than the actual nature of the injury. Seeing a part of her so easily removed had been difficult for him to bear. And that notion angered him.

***

It had been two weeks since the unfortunate accident in the workroom, and Bulma was finally caught up on the work she had missed. Her leg still bothered her a little, itched like crazy as new skin was growing, but she was happy to hear from the doctors that she would not suffer any permanent scarring as long as she took good care of the injury. Now it was time to take care of another matter.

The nurses had told her of the handsome man that had brought her into the hospital, and how he was waiting to take her home. She almost didn't believe it could be Vegeta, but low and behold he was waiting for her and had given her a smooth ride home. That was the last she had seen of him in two weeks. He was still on the premises, but he spent most of his time in the gravity room, big surprise. They had not spoken at all about that day, and she felt she owed him some gratitude.

She knocked softly on the gravity room door and waited as she heard the generator power down. He seemed somewhat surprised to see her. She walked past him and stopped in the middle of the room.

"I don't want to interrupt your training for long, but I did want to talk to you." The prince shut the door and closed the space between them.

"Alright, speak." His arms were crossed, but he did not appear too annoyed at the interruption.

"I wanted to thank you for saving me in the lab. If you had not been there, well I am pretty sure I would be a brocket right now. I suppose you did it because without me your machines would not get fixed, and you would have no one to complain too, but I still thank you for it." She moved to leave, but hesitated. They had not been alone together in quite some time.

"Trunks would have been without his mother. Who else would take care of him?" He said it so matter-of-factly, though she felt some genuine emotion mixed in.

"Yes, that too. Well, I will let you get back to your training. Do try to take a break more often." She walked past him towards the door, but stopped and looked back at him. She was unsure what she was about to do was anything close to sane, but she felt she had to do it. "Vegeta, I know the concept of us is never going to come to fruition, but…I am here for you." Before she could gauge his understanding of her words, he was inches from her.

***

_"I am here for you."_ So many meanings to that simple phrase, but he knew which one she meant. His body tightened and he eliminated the gap between them. Slowly, he reached up to her neck and placed his hand there, playing with a few strands of hair.

"It has been awhile. However old Trunks is, plus nine months, to be exact. I assume my honor will not be slighted if I reset the clock?" He could hear her heart pounding, could smell the arousal coming from her. A small nod was all it took.

Cupping the back of her head and wrapping the other arm around her waist, he captured her lips with his and reveled in the taste of it. Little urging was necessary to open her mouth to his. It was a hot, passionate kiss, one that had not been experienced between them in over two years. The kiss alone tightened his manhood against his pants, and he knew he would only last so long.

As he broke from the kiss he heard soft mewls coming from the woman, begging for more. He pressed her against the wall and obliged, and the wave of arousal that hit him nearly knocked him flat. Quickly, he removed the gloves from his hands and let one find the waistband of her sweatpants, while the other teased a hardened nipple. The rogue hand dipped under the waistband and felt for her core. Her panties were soaked with arousal. Slowly, he went underneath the flimsy material and smoothed over the soft curls beneath. His fingers found the slick center of desire and wasted no time delving within.

The pleasure he elicited broke their kiss. Her moans quickened in time to his fingers, and the occasionally scream was brought forth when he tweaked a nipple. He knew she was growing impatient when she removed her hands from his shoulders to remove her shirt and bra, exposing her milky flesh. His tongue sought a nipple and circled it, and he felt her knees buckle. _Too much, is it?_

It must have been too much, because she sought her revenge. His waistband was being invaded by a pair of slim hands, his member being enclosed within the soft skin. A grunt left his lips as she stroked the length. She had not lost her touch. But too much more and it would be over before it even began.

As gently as possible, he separated them and removed the remainder of their clothing. Her leg was still injured, so he would need to be careful. With a squeal of protest, he lifted her by the waist and wrapped his arms about her back, steadying her core just above his member. When the shock of being lifted wore off, she wrapped her arms about his neck and gave a nod.

"Ah!" He plunged in, bracing her enough to keep her upright but giving her the freedom to ride him of her own volition. And she did so magnificently. The position did not allow a quick ride, but the pace was its own kind of delicious. Each thrust brought them closer to release, but the slow ride was not enough to get them there. When he felt himself nearly full to bursting, he leaned her against the wall and thrust into her with a carnal need. She screamed intensely as she came closer to the edge and finally fell from it. And when he felt himself spill into her, he could not help but groan in pleasure along with her.

He set her to the floor carefully and found himself joining her, spent. He had needed that. The pair spent several minutes in silence, looking at each other in a companionable manner. Finally, Bulma rose and replaced her clothing. She smiled when she walked towards the door.

"I take your lack of argument as a 'thank you.' You're welcome." She left the room.

***

That had been wonderful. It had been just as long for her as it had been for him. She felt deliciously sated and altogether relaxed. So why was it a deep cold had settled in her spine?

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A/N: Hope you all enjoyed. Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello again! Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing. Sorry it's taken so long for this next chapter. This will be the last update before the holiday season, but I hope to have the next installment up before the end of January. The story is now starting to get into the actual meat of the plot, so I hope you enjoy.

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"He's old enough." Yes, his son was well beyond the age necessary to begin training, but stating the obvious to the mother took amounts of courage he never thought possible. She was terrifying when she was being maternal.

"He is three years old! And you want to put him in the gravity room? What is wrong with you?" The notes her voice hit were so high he swore every animal with ten kilometers would come running. But, he would not be swayed.

"Yes, and that means he has spent more than half his life walking. I made it very clear that when he could move about freely he would be trained. My son will not grow up weak." He crossed his arms and stared her down. She was rather beautiful when she was riled. After his moment of weakness more than a year ago, he had not touched her. He knew as well as she that coupling once more had been a mistake. Physical attraction had not waned for either of them, or at least it had not for him, and he knew to indulge further would be to succumb to a flaw. He was not a weak man, and he could restrain himself. The woman had done admirably as well. Though, there were moments when he thought she teased him.

"Can't you wait until he's older? You can still train him, just don't use the gravity." Her voice was now pleading. She knew she could not stop him from training the boy, and was trying to find a compromise. He would have none.

"On my home planet, where every Saiyan warrior was born, the gravity is ten times that of Earth's. Just by being born here, my son is at a disadvantage. I will not break him, simply introduce him to his birthright. The boy will be fine, so stop your worrying." He watched her struggle to find a counterpoint to his argument, but in the end she sighed and turned to enter the living room. She said something, and seconds later the lavender-haired toddler rushed to face his father. It surprised him how eager the boy was to train, but then again he became eager over many things.

"Come, son. Today begins your training." He did not wait to see if the toddler followed him and walked to the gravity room. After entering the room he noticed the boy had stopped in front of the door, staring at it with apprehension. It appeared the woman had told the boy not to enter the gravity room, or even go near it. That was the only reason he could think of for his son's hesitance to enter. "I am growing impatient. Come here now, son." The harsh tone he put behind his words seemed more than enough motivation to move the boy's feet.

The boy stood before him, eyes pasted to the floor. He sealed the door and made his way to the control panel. "Listen, son, from today forward you will be training here. For the moment, I will start you out with ten times Earth's gravity. This was the gravitational norm on the Planet Vegeta, and so you will become accustomed to it. Prepare yourself." He was not sure if his son understood any of that, but it mattered not. The room hummed as the gravity sensors warmed up and increased the gravity ten-fold. It felt like nothing to him. For his son, it was a different matter.

***

The boy had potential, he gave him that much. Ten times Earth's gravity had severely hindered his ability to move, but not once did he cry out in protest. By the end of the four-hour training session, he had actually been able to stand and walk around a bit. If the boy were able to adapt that quickly, it was likely his training would move along much faster than he had originally anticipated.

Saiyan breeding with other races often had mixed results. Some offspring took after their Saiyan aspect, while others did not. Despite his fear of even being a father, he had worried his son would be more human than Saiyan. Fortunately, the teen from the future had put his doubts to rest. Still, that version of his son had grown up in chaotic times and had been forced to learn or die. In this peaceful time, he worried his son might be a bit soft and difficult to train. For once, he was glad he was wrong.

As he stepped from the shower he caught an odd scent. It was not unpleasant, but it was unfamiliar. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt and followed the unfamiliar scent to the foyer. It belonged to a woman, but he did not know her. Just as he was about to inquire about her identity, Bulma came down the staircase in a blur.

"Sorry I took so long. I wasn't sure I would even fit into this old thing." His jaw nearly dropped at the sight of her. She wore a short, black dress with what he believed she referred to as "stilettos." Her hair was coiled into a tight bun and a few curls hung from it. The dress stopped a few inches short of her knees, and the haltered top was modestly cut, but the fabric hugged every inch of her. Having a child certainly did not keep her out of shape for long.

"No problem, darling. I know it's not fair to the rest of the women, but we have to look our best," replied the other woman. He noticed she was attired in a similar fashion. "By the way, who is the handsome fool who has been staring dumb at us?" He recoiled and frowned. He had not been staring "dumb," though he had to admit he had been staring a little.

Bulma noticed him and laughed. "Oh, that's just Vegeta."

"Oh, so that's…."

"Yep, that's him. Hey, Vegeta, I'm going out for a few hours. Mom said she'll check up on Trunks and make sure he gets put to bed on time, so you don't have to worry about him. Do try to get some sleep yourself, alright?" He crossed his arms and grunted.

"It is a bit late to be going out, don't you think?" It was not terribly late in the evening, but it was late enough to be suspicious. Her friend placed her hands on her hips in response.

"We're going to a club. Bulma works far too hard all the time, what with taking care of a three-year old and fixing all that broken machinery. She deserves a girl's night. Come on, Bulma, let's go." Before she could protest, her friend had grabbed her arm and led her from the house. He was not exactly sure what a "club" was, but he figured it was some silly female activity and would be harmless. Well, perhaps not completely harmless. The last time she had come back from a "girl's night" she had been very inebriated and very difficult to deal with. He had to listen to her for two hours while she complained about how he never did anything around the house and how she wondered why they had ever gotten together in the first place. It had been unsettling. He did not like feeling unsettled.

***

Despite trying his damndest, he could not fall asleep. The woman had said she would only be gone a few hours, and that had been three hours ago. It was not like him to worry, but he always slept easier knowing she was down the hall. Her scent calmed him. Grumbling, he sat up from his bed and made his way to the kitchen. Over the years, he had learned to control his hunger and made sure not to gorge on everything; he no longer worried about where he might find food next, and overeating was very uncomfortable. Still, he might be able to sleep easier if he grabbed a snack.

He had just barely opened the fridge when he heard the front door open and a strong wave of scent hit him. There were so many mingled together, but the woman's was still dominant. He met her halfway, blocking the exit of the hallway with his frame. She appeared slightly inebriated, but nowhere near the levels he had seen her at in the past. She also appeared tired.

"Your translation of a few hours should be redefined." She gave him a tired look and sighed.

"Three hours is a few hours, you idiot. Besides, you're one to talk. Your definition of a few hours usually means two days later. Now, move yourself so I can grab some water and go to bed." Without a solid argument, he conceded and followed her into the kitchen. The scents surrounding her piqued his interest.

She poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter as she drank. He took this opportunity to find out exactly what those scents were.

***

Warmth filled her back as the prince stepped close behind her. She was not sure what he wanted, but she knew it was nothing good. Wanting to turn in protest, she began to move but stopped as a hand undid her bun and ran its way through the locks. The sensation brought a shiver through her stomach. She heard him sniffing, trying to figure out all the varied scents on her person. Suddenly, he spun her around to face him, and the look in his eyes was not one she wanted to deal with.

"You smell heavily of other males and their arousal." He grasped the hair in his hand tighter, pulling her head slightly. "You should never smell of another male." His lips crushed hers and his arms encircled her body. It was almost painful. She hated how her body responded to him. Her mouth opened to his without resistance and her tongue flitted across his. Her breasts tightened as his hands roamed her back and buttocks, and she could feel moisture pooling between her legs.

"No!" She pushed against him and twisted in his grasp. He was too strong to actually move, but he got the message and pulled back. He looked confused. "No, Vegeta, you can't do this to me! We are nothing to each other, remember? I am allowed to associate with other men. I am allowed to come home smelling like other men. And, if I so choose, I am allowed to do all sorts of things with other men. You do not own me, so don't even begin to think you do."

***

He stood dumbfounded as she stormed off upstairs and slammed the door. Slowly, the anger began to creep in. He had to leave. The air outside was cool and felt good against his skin as he flew in a random direction. He wanted to thoroughly pound something or blow something up, and anyone in his way might not survive the process. A desert valley would not care if it was blown to bits.

No sooner had he landed, the rage welling up inside him broke loose. He screamed fiercely and let his power escape, quickly surpassing the level of Super Saiyan and ascending. The hills shattered around him as the surge of his power whipped through them like paper. It was several minutes before he was able to reign in his energy and power down. It was rare that he became so angry. Those words that woman had spoken to him hit a before unknown chord. All he found when he searched for the specific chord was:

_Mine._

***

The next morning Bulma rose from a restless sleep and fumbled about the kitchen for coffee. It was odd to see nothing damaged or destroyed. In fact, she was surprised she had not heard Vegeta at all last night. Perhaps he had not come back to his room. A knock at the front door broke her train of thought.

Opening the door, she saw the one person she never expected to see: Piccolo. She must have looked surprised because he wasted no time.

"Bulma, we need to talk. I think you broke Vegeta."

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I have been working on the first chapter to my Krillin/18 story, so I may have that up before the holiday season as well. I'm still not sure where it is going, so it may take awhile. Anyway, I'll definitely see you all in January.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: An early Merry Christmas to everyone! I had the inspiration, and the time, to write the next chapter, and here it is. Thank you so much to those of you who have been reviewing and those of you who have put this story on their Story Alert. I am glad others seem to like Piccolo's addition too. He is an interesting character, and I always thought he and Vegeta had an interesting relationship. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

"Broke him? What do you mean?" she asked as she stepped aside to allow the tall Namekian through the doorway. He stood silent for a moment and then released a big breath.

"Last night, I felt an enormous power surge. After pinpointing its location, I was able to sense Vegeta. He was furious. I decided to sense him for what had made him so angry, and I picked up you. You were the last to have contact with him before he exploded, so it is likely you are to blame." His voice was even and calm, so it was difficult to tell how serious the situation was.

"We…we had an argument last night, but I didn't think it would upset him so much. Did he hurt anyone?" She knew Vegeta was not to be controlled when he was angry, which meant anyone in his way was probably a pile of ash right about now.

"No. He did turn a good chunk of a desert into glass, however. And, despite the fact that he has powered down, fury is still bubbling inside him. I do not believe a simple argument would have caused all that. What did you argue about?" Piccolo was very intimidating without trying to be, and she learned a while ago that trying to hide anything from him was futile.

"I went out with my friend last night to a club, and there were lots of other men around. When I came back, Vegeta must have smelled them because he told me I should not smell like them. He kissed me and tried to…Well, I think he was trying to rid the other scents from me. But I shoved him off. It's not his place to tell me what I can or cannot do with other men. I don't want to give in to him anymore. I told him this and then went to my room. I didn't hear him come back last night, but I didn't know I had made him so angry." She watched Piccolo consider her words and then was taken aback when a small smile graced his lips.

"That makes more sense. Thank you, Bulma." He left without another word.

***

He sensed him far before he saw him. Did the Namekian have a death wish? If Piccolo could not sense how angry he was, then the green man was going senile. Nonetheless, he was now standing a few feet from the man and giving him a cold stare.

"What do you want?" He had no patience left, so the Namekian better not try him.

"You are going to lose her if you do not change your attitude." Calm, matter-of-fact. He wanted to rip those silly antennae off his head and see how calm he was then.

"What are you babbling about? I have no idea what you mean." Yes he did. The fact that he knew exactly what he meant sent a wave of electricity from his skin into the air. Saiyans were not supposed to be controlled by emotions, and yet his body was telling him something he could not deny. Hearing it from someone else made him feel defeated. He would never be defeated.

"Bulma will never be yours unless you do something about it. You know good and well what I mean. That thought wracking your brain and your body will only get worse if you do not make peace with her."

"And why are you so interested in relationship problems, anyway?" he nearly screamed. He knew Piccolo was correct, but that just made him all the angrier.

"Listen, I do not care what the two of you do the majority of the time. But when it becomes a matter of saving the planet, I think it is appropriate that I get involved. Kami would be furious with me if I did not. Last night, you were so angry that you destroyed half this valley. If it gets worse, you might destroy something else."

"Do not think me so weak, Namek! I can direct my anger, and I can control it. I will not destroy the planet, if that's what you mean." Fool.

"What happens when Bulma brings another man back to the house? Would you be able to control your anger then?" Just the thought was enough to send electricity into the air. _Mine_. No other man would touch her. If one did, he would…

The realization removed the fury from his body. He stood, jaw dropped and speechless, as he contemplated the meaning of his ripping through any man that got close to her with sexual intentions. It was unlikely he would destroy the planet, but some would die. And Bulma would never be able to look at him again.

"But, how do I fix it?"

"Don't ask me. I have never had to deal with women in this way before. But you will need to fix it. I suggest speaking with Yamcha and Krillin: they are the two men that have known her the longest, and Yamcha even dated her at one point. They may be able to help." With that, the Namekian took off.

How was he supposed to fix his relationship with Bulma when they really never had one to begin with? He loathed the idea of speaking with those Earthlings, especially since he knew Yamcha had touched the woman. It seemed, however, he had little choice. He did not know what he felt towards her, but he knew he would not tolerate another male's presence. And the Namekian had a point: it would be very bad for him to lose control of his anger.

He grumbled and searched for Yamcha and Krillin's energy, relieved they were located in the same place. Well, if he had to injure his pride, it might as well be over a woman.

***

"Did I hear you correctly? You want _us_ to help _you_ with relationship problems?" He could not believe it, would not have believed it unless he had heard it with his own ears. Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans, was asking himself and Krillin to help him with Bulma.

"Yes, damn it, do I have to repeat myself? I do not want some other man with her, and I need to know how to prevent that from happening." He wondered if the red on the Saiyan's face was from anger or embarrassment. Regardless, his day was already shaping up to be the best day ever.

Beside him Krillin snickered. "Wow, Vegeta, I never figured you for falling in love with someone. You have it pretty bad, don't you?" The prince seemed taken aback by that statement.

"Do not assume this has anything to do with 'love.' Silly human emotion. I simply know I will end any man's life if he so much as looks at her in the wrong way and, as I have learned, killing people is frowned upon." Krillin shook his head.

"Whatever. Deny it all you want, but we know the truth. So, how do you think we can help?" Yes, how did Krillin think he could help? When it came to women, he was not really the person to talk to. Luckily, he had managed to find the balls to find Android 18 and marry her, but that was the one successful relationship he had ever had. He supposed Krillin had known Bulma for a long while, so perhaps he might have a smidge of useful knowledge.

"The pair of you know her. You know what she likes, dislikes, and abhors. I never learned those things, and I doubt she would be happy to tell me now. And you, Yamcha, had a relationship with her years ago. You should know better than anyone what pleases her." He was serious. He really wanted their help. Even if he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Alright, then. She really likes it when you play with her stomach, and she really likes her hair touched, and—"

"I DO NOT NEED BEDROOM ADVICE!" Vegeta's voice nearly floored him. "Pleasing her sexually has never been a problem. Unfortunately, it seems that is all I DO know about her."

Yamcha laughed, holding his hands out in front of him in defense. Fat lot of good it would do if Vegeta actually decided to take him out. "Okay, okay, I was just joking. Well, I hope you brought something to write with, because she is one of the pickiest women I have ever dated." He could see the sheer pain in the prince's eyes. Yep, best day ever.

***

They had prattled on for hours, and little they gave him helped his cause. She liked tight and expensive clothing, cute shoes, strong men…all of these he had deduced from day one. He knew she liked flowers, but he had not known what kind. Not that he would ever lower himself to buying some for her, but it was probably good knowledge to have. Much of the information had been specific, but the most important piece was also the one that made him angry.

_"She doesn't like guys that come on too strong. I mean, I was deathly afraid of women when we got together. To come on any weaker, I would have had to be handicapped. You can't rush her, or she'll know what you're up to. Sorry to say it, but there is no quick-fix for this situation."_

Of course the universe would not let him fix this easily. At least he had enough to start formulating a plan. It mostly revolved around "What would Kakarot do?" He knew his rival had never had even the slightest sexual interest in his friend, but he also knew the idiot was very good at making people happy. Taking things one step at a time was going to be torture, but he knew it was the only way.

He ran into the woman sooner than expected, as he entered the kitchen and found her drinking a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper. The look that came over her face told him Piccolo had been here as well. She put down the paper and the mug, standing to face him.

"Vegeta, what—"

"Just blowing off some steam. Nothing to worry about. Where's the boy?" He tried to sound as calm and neutral as possible. _Be aloof. If she thinks you're not interested, she'll be even more attracted to you._ The Earthling, while a terrible fighter, always smelled of women. Some of his advice must have been worth following.

She looked confused, but sat back down when the look on his face did not change. "He's in his room. Are you two training today?" Her voice was hesitant.

"Yes. We will be done before dinner, so you will not have a dirty child on your hands during the meal." He knew she hated when he finished training and went straight to dinner without washing. What must be true for him must also be true for the boy. Perhaps anticipating her quirks would earn him some points. As long as he intrigued her, she would not stray to other men. He did not wait for her response and headed upstairs to his son's room.

The boy was playing with some of his toys, but stood at attention when he saw his father. "Time for training, my son."

***

It had been two weeks since the blowing-stuff-up incident, and Vegeta had acted the model citizen. Well, as model a citizen as a trained Saiyan warrior could be. But she had noticed a drastic change. Trunks was never late, or unwashed, for dinner, and Vegeta was complaining far less than he usually did. Normally, she would be suspicious of such behavior, but she figured he had taken her words to heart and maybe felt bad about what he did. He was a ruthless warrior prince, and feeling bad was something very low on his repertoire of emotions, but if there were a time for him to use it, it was now. So, she had maybe a twinge of suspicion, but mostly she was happy. Mostly.

Women dream of having strong men around the house, men who will respect them and give them the space they need. She had certainly dreamed of Vegeta doing housework or taking some extra work off her hands, and seeing that dream put into reality, even in the slightest, was hard to resist. But she had to resist.

She did not consider herself a weak woman by any means, but the prince caused her to falter. Her attraction to him had not waned in the slightest over the years. Despite the argument they had a few weeks ago, the change in his attitude combined with his freshly laundered figure often drew her breath away and tightened her body. There were many things Vegeta no longer was, but he was still the perfect picture of a regal prince. And what woman did not want a prince?

Looking down at the piece of paper in her hand, Bulma drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. She swallowed and rapped quickly on the door. Not two seconds later, the Saiyan prince was before her, unclothed save for a tight pair of exercise shorts.

"What do you want?" His tone was even different. Usually he sounded annoyed, but now he mainly sounded bored. When she held the paper out for him, he took it and studied it carefully. "I am confused as to why you are showing this me."

"It's an invitation to the annual Capsule Corporation charity event. It is in a few weeks, and I had hoped to have found someone to go with by now. You see, as a member of the Briefs family, it would seem odd if I didn't attend, and odd if I showed up unescorted. I was going to ask Yamcha if he wanted to go, but I thought maybe you might want to go instead. I know you hate parties, but it might be fun." A hollow feeling settled in her stomach at how desperate she felt to have him come with her. Yamcha was still a good friend, but he always talked about the wild dates he had, and she had nothing to offer in return; her personal life was rather barren as of late.

The prince looked back at the paper, seemingly considering the invitation. "What would my going entail?"

"Well, you would need to dress up and act civilly towards the other guests. Oh…and you would have to dance." She saw him visibly flinch at the latter, but was shocked when she also saw him fight some sort of internal battle. He wanted to say no, but perhaps there was a reason he could not just come out and say it.

"…I do not know your Earth dances. You would need to train me." He looked defeated, like Trunks did when he was told there would be no more toys until his room was clean. Now she knew where he got it from.

"So, this means you'll go?"

If it were possible to see every fiber of his being tell him to do one thing but be forced into doing another, that is what she saw his body go through. "Yes."

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I will see you all after the holidays. Please have a wonderful holiday season and stay safe. :)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey Everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing and/or adding this story to Alert/Favorite. I'm sorry this chapter took so long, but I had no computer over winter break, and then I was getting settled in to the spring semester. But here it is, and I hope it is worth the wait. I have put some references to different dances, but all my dancing expertise comes from "So You Think You Can Dance" and "Dancing with the Stars", so I apologize if there are errors. Well, please enjoy. :)

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He had faced countless adversaries, he had faced death—even succumbed on one occasion, he had been raised by the cruelest hellion space had to offer, and yet this was the one thing he was currently most afraid of: the waltz. Oh, of course this particular dance would give him problems. The tango and the salsa had been but child's play: the man is a prop for the woman to dance around. This dance, however, required equality and a decent amount of skill on his part to lead his partner about the dance floor gracefully. And it was much slower.

What he enjoyed about the other dances was the quickness and the never-having-to-stay-in-one-position-very-long. His mind was able to be given varied stimuli, kept him distracted. The waltz, on the other hand, was strict and framed. The couple in the dance held a frame the whole time, and often looked nowhere but at each other. At this particular moment, Bulma was showing him the proper steps in a Viennese waltz and chastising him every time his arms broke frame. How he wanted to take her against the ballroom wall. _No, remove such thoughts. They will get you nowhere and will ruin any chances you may have left,_ his brain conveniently reminded him. _That_ was why he was so afraid. Being laughed at for poor dance skills simply annoyed him, but the thought of his hormones overriding his mind was what truly terrified him. It had been overly long since he had had intimate contact, and he could feel his control slipping. If one more incident occurred like it had in the kitchen more than a month ago, she would be lost to him forever. Damned if he knew why, but he could not let that happen.

***

Dancing lessons over for the day, Vegeta decided he should finally get to the business of speaking with Dr. Briefs. During the event he was being forced to attend, he had to wear what was called a "tuxedo;" it was a horribly dreadful device that provided limited range of motion and constricted muscles. Obviously, he had never put one on before. As the only other male in residence, and the only male he wished to have any further dealings with (he would rather eat glass than ask for help from those other two humans again ), he needed to request his services in showing him how to wear the ridiculous outfit. He hated asking for help—would rather just force the man to do it—but unfortunately he was still trying to be in that woman's good graces, and threatening to blast her father into oblivion was probably not the most tactful way to go about it.

The old doctor was puttering about the lab and never staying in the same place for more than a few seconds. After a few minutes, the doctor still had not acknowledged his presence, so the prince cleared his throat rather loudly.

"Oh! My dear boy, I did not see you there." His endearments annoyed him. "What can I do for you?"

Vegeta crossed his arms and approached the old man slowly. "I am to attend your company's charity event and I require assistance with my outfit." He barely managed to keep an even tone. That was about as much kindness as he could muster for one day.

"Of course. I can meet you in your room about an hour before the event begins. It's really not all that complicated, but I can see how trying to figure it out for the first time might be challenging." Always a silly smile plastered upon his face, and the little black cat upon his shoulder mewing for no particular reason. Dr. Briefs was hard to read if only because he was so atypical.

The prince nodded and turned to leave. "I will expect you at that time."

"You know, you do have our permission." He whipped himself around and stared puzzlingly at the doctor.

"Your permission for what?" Yes, what did the doctor believe he had that was not already allowed for the Saiyan warrior to possess? The doctor's smile warmed and he gave a soft laugh.

"Well, on our planet, it is customary for the man to ask the woman's parents for permission to marry her. Bunny and I believe you will do right by our daughter, even though you have not done so always." Vegeta did not know how to respond. _Marry?_ Who said anything about marrying their daughter? He simply wanted instruction on how to dress properly. He looked at the man as if he were going senile.

"Vegeta, it is obvious you love our daughter. The only next logical step is to marry her. You have been acting so odd lately, and then you accept an invitation that will require you to be out of your comfort zone, it seems only natural you will ask Bulma."

There were so many responses to that statement. A witty retort, a scathing denial, but then a question popped into his mind, a curiosity he could not shake himself of. Pride be damned, he needed answers and playing dumb was only going to lead him to a dead end.

"What is this 'love' you and all the other humans keep spouting on about?" The doctor chuckled a little.

"Hmm, good question." He rubbed his chin, looking up at the ceiling as though he were contemplating something. "Ah, yes. Well, I remember the first time I met Bunny. We certainly did not get along for the longest of times, but eventually we formed a friendship. Over time, I started thinking about her when we were not together. Soon, I thought about her multiple times a day. And each time I saw her again, my heart fluttered and I felt completely at peace. So, I guess love is when your body knows it needs someone mentally and is whole when you're around them. It is a complicated emotion to explain, but I hope that clears a few things up."

Vegeta grunted and made his way out of the room. "Hardly."

***

Of course the old man would conveniently have a last-minute thing come up. Now he was forced to ask that woman for her help, and he was quite unsure of how he would react. Add to that his practically naked body and the next few minutes could get very interesting indeed. He grumbled and knocked on Bulma's door, rather wishing he could simply ask someone else. But every other person in the household conveniently had party-planning to do or errands to run. If there were an appropriate way to throttle the lot of them, he would do so.

As she answered, the prince saw her face go from neutral to flustered. "What are you doing here?!" Her face grew red as it looked up and down his body. The folded pile that was the tuxedo covered his lower torso to his mid-thighs, and he was only wearing a tight pair of boxers. It took him a second, but he soon realized why she had screamed at him. He moved the pile aside to show her that he was, indeed, clothed.

"Do not get excited, woman, I simply need assistance with this garment. Your father was supposed to assist me, but it appears he and every other living soul have vacated the immediate area." He normally would have moved into her room and waited for her to help him, but he was less-likely to anger her if he waited for her permission first. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

She sighed and opened her door further to allow his entrance. "Alright, I'll help you. But I do still need to finish getting ready myself, so pay attention." That was going to be easier said than done. With the dress she was wearing, he was going to find it hard to even focus on breathing. It was a light silvery-blue hue, a few inches above floor-length, and cut quite shapely. A modest slit was worked into the right side to show off everything but her undergarments…though if she wore any they would be extremely tiny. That thought alone made him wish he was wearing significantly more than his boxers. Combined with the fact that the dress allowed her breasts to have virtually total freedom, he sorely wished a bucket of ice water was handy.

Bulma cleared her throat. "Are you just going to stare all day or do you want to get dressed?" Damn, he had been staring. And he had been caught. Well, she might as well get used to it because chances were he and all the other hot-blooded males would be staring stupidly upon her body as soon as she entered the ballroom. And if he had it his way, two seconds later it would only be him left staring. _Mine._

***

The first hour or so of the event was droll and mundane. A plentiful bounty of food was served, but he could only partake a little if he wanted to maintain any sense of class. Even at the most prestigious Saiyan events, with the most ravenous Saiyans, everyone took polite and calculated bites of whatever food was offered. The events would take hours to complete, so if one were tactful and always had a piece of food, one would not be starving by the end of the evening. Though, what passed for a polite serving on Vegeta and on Earth differed by several pounds. He was fortunate he had eaten well beforehand. But still, eating would have been a preferable activity to being led about the room, being an ornament on Bulma's arm.

She was currently talking to another stuffy-looking couple, thanking them for their generous donation. None of the couples had paid him any mind. Bulma had explained that unless someone looked like they were powerful or influential, very few patrons would even acknowledge him. Yes, the Prince of All Saiyans, one of the most powerful beings in the universe, an ascended Super Saiyan, was below all their regard.

He was quite close to loosening some of his anger upon them when the woman grabbed his arm and began attempting to drag him in another direction. "The dancing is going to start, and it would look weird if I weren't among the couples dancing." He swallowed his anger and sighed, allowing himself to be paraded onto the dance floor.

Through the first dance he focused very intently on the correct positioning of his feet, but by the second he was on autopilot. It was not because he had so skillful mastered the dances he had been taught, but more of a self-preservation instinct. Though, this kind of self-preservation was directly involved with the reproduction side of things. Being so close to his partner, smelling the pleasant perfume from her neck and feeling each curve as they came together was making it difficult to focus on anything else. He remembered the time when they had first coupled, remembered he had not had to fight this hard to keep himself from bedding her. She had never made it this difficult before.

After the second dance, he excused himself for a beverage. Someone had already asked to dance with Bulma and, although he thoroughly disliked the idea, he felt it was a necessary evil to prevent an even greater one.

"Wow, Bulma Briefs looks fantastic. Who would think a smart, rich chick would also be a babe?" His ears perked up when he heard talk of _his_ woman. A pair of men were leaning against the drink table, sipping on what were likely alcoholic beverages, and were staring lustily at Bulma.

"I know, right? We have to dance with her. If we can score some points, maybe we can score her too," the other said, a sly grin upon his face. That was enough.

He walked up to the pair, blocking their view of the dance floor. Crossing his arms, he stared menacingly at them. "I would prefer it if you did not speak about her that way." The men looked at each other and laughed.

"Oh, excuse us, we didn't realize she was taken. Oh wait, she's not." They laughed again until they found themselves several feet off the ground, their collars the only thing keeping them from falling. Vegeta held them there, his expression darkening.

"If you believe that, then you are sadly mistaken." The men were beginning to squirm in his grasp.

"Sorry, man, we didn't know she was your girl. For years now, no one's heard of her having a boyfriend, and she isn't wearing a ring, so we figured she was available."

"Yeah, man, we didn't mean to offend you or anything. Now please put us down." Their voices were edging on hysterical, so he let them down. They skittered away like the vermin they were. So, that was why men were all over her. To the eyes of the world, she was like any other beautiful single woman.

He looked over to the dance floor and spotted the woman smiling and giggling with her partner, this time another new man. _Mine._ No more of this. If he stayed here any longer, he was going to lose it. And if he lost it, he would lose her.

***

"What the hell were you thinking!? First you assault two of my guests, and then you storm off, embarrassing me and my family! What is wrong with you?" She was seething. She had thought perhaps he could be a decent person for one evening, but no, he just had be the pig-headed prince he was.

He just looked at her, removing his tuxedo as she spoke. Down to his shirt and pants, he was a bit of a vision, and she hated him for that. The top few buttons of the white shirt were open, tie discarded somewhere around his room. The way he looked at her as he attempted to undo the sleeve buttons was a scene out of a romantic movie. Even in all his idiocy and arrogance, he still looked like a prince.

"Well, are you just going to look at me, or are you going to say something?" She noticed his body tensing up immediately. It was a moment before he spoke.

"I am sorry if I ruined your evening, but there were more important matters than making sure your dignity stayed intact. Those fools in there spoke of you like an object to be won and it was simply intolerable."

"They are just stupid men, like you! It happens all the time, but that's no excuse for attacking them! So is that why you left? Were you jealous that someone else might desire me?" The veins on his head and neck thickened, his muscles bulged more than usual. The soft tone he spoke with surprised her.

"Did Piccolo tell you what happened that night after we argued? Did he tell you I was so angered by someone else possessing you that I obliterated an entire valley just to keep from killing those men I smelled on you? The same thing was going to happen tonight if I did not leave. I figured you would rather be a little embarrassed than have hundreds of vaporized party guests to explain."

She found it very difficult to find any words; in fact, she found it hard to breath. "What? But…why do other men make you so angry?"

"When I smelled the men and their lust, the reality of how badly I needed to mate with you was so painful I could not contain it; I attempted to alleviate the strain with you, but you would have none of it. Those men that want you do not want you for the same reasons as I, and it angers me. It also angers me to be rejected by the woman I have chosen to be my mate. And it is very painful to endure."

She was so confused. "Mate? I don't understand. Please, tell me what you mean." Now the anger was apparent on his face.

"Woman, you have got to be the daftest genius on this planet. Every waking moment is filled of thoughts of you, and not just the sexual ones. I changed my behavior to endear myself to you, to prevent you from hating me. I came to the damn event because I knew you wanted me to!" She shook her head.

"I don't—" He exploded.

"I love you, damn it!"

* * *

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed. The next chapter will hopefully be up with a month, and there will definitely be some naughty goodness within it. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for leaving off the last chapter like that. I wanted to take the time to think about this next chapter and make sure it was done the way I wanted without being too rushed. Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing and checking out this story. I want to thank CDV10 for catching a typo in the title: I can't believe I've had this story up for months and not caught it.

Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It is shorter than the others, but also condensed with lemony goodness. :) Please enjoy.

**Warning**: For Mature Adults Only.

**Disclaimer**: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama.

* * *

Her lungs stopped working. At that moment, everything seemed surreal. She held her hand to her heart to make sure it was still beating. Had the Prince of all Saiyans, one of the most ruthless warriors in the universe, just confessed his love for her?

"Is that all I get? Do not make me repeat myself, for that was the one and _only_ time I will ever say it." At another time she might have laughed. He looked like a little school boy who had just asked his high school crush to the prom. The dread in his eyes was almost comical.

Finally she gathered the courage to speak. "You love me?" Her voice hitched in the middle of her words, so many emotions coursing through her. Now it was her turn to feel like the nervous school child. What if he was just playing games? What if he did not really love her? Wait, did that mean she _wanted _him to love her? The beating of her heart was so rapid she believed it might crack her rib cage.

He took a step forward, still leaving some room between them, and looked into her eyes. "Yes." She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms about his neck, burying her head into his warm chest. His heart was beating even faster than hers. Her fists clenched the white fabric of his shirt and she reveled in the scent of him. A clean, cool scent met her senses and that alone was enough to tighten her body. So, he really did love her.

Removing her head from his chest, she looked up with teary eyes and smiled. "Oh Vegeta, I love you too." The rest that followed could only be described at perfect.

Their lips met, a soft passion melting into them in no hurry to be finished. For what seemed like ages, they played against each other, enjoying the feel and taste of their kiss. He was being gentler with his kiss than he ever had been before, was taking it slow and moved only after she did. It surprised her that he was being so reserved, but she knew he wanted to do nothing to make her change her mind. Of course, there was no longer any danger of that.

She snaked her hands through his hair and slid her tongue across his lips, warmly accepted inside. A jolt of desire sizzled down her spine. The prince pulled her closer to his body and feasted with her. It was sensual, fulfilling, and had a different taste than lust. Lust was quick and to the point: this was deliberately slow. No wonder why she lost herself to it. When her love pulled back from the kiss, she felt a wave of disappointment.

"_More_," she heard herself moan. Instead of the usual predatory look Vegeta would have given her with such a request, his eyes looked on longingly. "_Make love to me,_" she breathed. She realized her breath was running ragged from need. He emitted an amused grunt.

"I suppose that is a fitting title for what I am about to do to you." He then scooped her up and placed her gently on his bed, sitting beside her and stroking a stray section of hair that had worked its way out of her highly-styled curls. Ever so slowly, his hand crept up her neck and began undoing the pins keeping her hair in place. Each scrape sent a sinful wave between her legs. Once all the pins were undone, his fingers tangled her hair and he brought her into another kiss. The agony of desire was becoming almost too much for her.

***

He needed to take everything slowly, make sure every move and caress was just perfect. Sex had always been about his desires first, though he had always obliged in fulfilling hers as well. But this was different. This was something more than just sex. It was mating. Not the monkey see, monkey hump kind of mating, this was the kind his people shared. Mating was the closest thing to all the emotions he was feeling right now, and that was what he was going to do to her. Give himself completely, or as completely as he could, and allow her to reciprocate in kind. He had been afraid she might take things _too_ slow, force the predator the come out, but he worried for nothing.

It was subtle the way her hands played against his abdomen. They caressed the curves of his muscles and flitted over the sensitive area above his groin. He wanted to place her hand against his growing erection, but he thought that might be a bit forward of him. Again, he had nothing to worry about. The hands smoothed over the fabric between his thighs and gently stroked his length. He felt that was enough of an invitation for his own exploration.

He pulled her dress up about her thighs and carefully slid his hand up her leg. When she moaned as he grazed her inner thigh, he knew he need not worry about any further rejection tonight: she was practically begging him to take her. And he would oblige.

Her panties, lacy by the feel, were soaked through and getting slicker by the second. Less subtle was more his style. He pulled the panties to one side and delved two fingers inside her. No longer could she hold the kiss.

"AH!" She moaned and screamed with each stroke of his fingers, her voice pleasing his loins greatly. She, of course, retaliated. The zipper and button of his trousers were opened and a slender hand was down his boxers within the span of a few seconds. They stroked each other and reveled in each other's voices, deriving pleasure that was close to bursting. He had to stop.

"No more games," he said breathlessly and stood from the bed. Too many buttons, so he simply tore the shirt from his back. The pants and other articles were spared from such a fate and fell to the floor, crumpled. He motioned for Bulma to stand, pulling her dress over her head when she complied. He almost came right then and there.

Blue lace covered practically nothing of her groin and breasts. Bright pink, erect, nipples peeked out from behind the material. He had to strongly resist the urge to rip it from her body: he remembered she was partial to her clothing. The hooks proved little more than a nuisance and the bra lay on the floor next to the all the other scattered clothing. He did not wait for permission to stroke them. The way she leaned into his hands as he squeezed and stroked the pert nipples pulled at his core. Fun to play with, but dangerous when he was so near his release. He kissed them each and pulled down her panties. She was pulling him to the bed before the flimsy garment hit the floor.

He ravaged her mouth and inched her further up the bed. Slender hands pulled at his neck and waist, urging him lower. Ah, yes, she was ready. He spread her legs with his thigh and moved his hands to her lower back, positioning himself at her moist entrance. And then he entered her. Her screams echoed through their lips. It was an easy-enough decision to release the kiss in order to hear her lovely voice scream out in absolute pleasure. The slick thrusting to and fro was barely audible over the screams of pleasure. And he realized the woman was not the only one emitting the screams. Each thrust dragged a rugged scream from his throat, timed in synchrony with the other melody.

When the screams went off rhythm and became more high-pitched, he knew she was about to hit her release. He sped up his ministrations and felt her close about him, heard the scream of release, and felt himself spill inside her. They did not move apart for several minutes. When they finally did, they looked at each other, smiled, and fell asleep.

***

"So your first time was with an alien?" she asked quizzically. Her elbow was against the pillow, hand supporting her chin. Vegeta was positioned in the same fashion.

"Think about it. No female Saiyans survived the destruction of Planet Vegeta. If there are no Saiyan females left, everyone else is an alien. Even yourself." His voice was deep and grumbly, and his typical scowl was set firmly in place, but his eyes were bright.

"Yes, but a green alien with scales? I think I'm a much better alien than she was." She was a bit surprised when he smirked, and even more so when he leaned over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"So do I." She laughed a little.

"You're being very sweet this morning. Is it because of the great sex?" She bit her lower lip and gave him a coy smile. He grunted a laugh.

"Do not get used to it, woman. I am in a particularly good mood and I doubt it will last." The scowl was back on his face, but all she could do was laugh.

"Alright, I won't." She sat up a little and looked about the room. So many clothes lay scattered about the floor, the most prominent of which was the white button-up shirt that her impatient prince ripped from his body. "Did you have to ruin a perfectly good shirt? I could have unbuttoned it for you."

He sat up with her. "That would have taken too long. Besides, I believe the price of a damaged shirt was well worth it."

"Yes." He cupped her face and gave her a slow, loving kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes looked serious.

"Will you be my mate? The longer you remain unclaimed, the more chances there are for some addle-brained fool to make the wrong move and be blown to pieces for his trouble." She looked at him and considered what he had said. It took her a moment, but it dawned on her exactly what he meant. She moved back a few inches in shock?

"Are you asking me to marry you!?" He really did not need to answer, the defeated grunt he provided was answer enough. She softened and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Of course I'll marry you!" She gave him a big kiss on the cheek and bolted from the bed. "Oh, there is so much planning to be done! I've got to start calling people right away. Hmm, I wonder what venue could hold that many guests." She began speaking to herself and pacing about the room. Her train of thought was only interrupted when Vegeta cleared his throat loudly.

"Woman, pray tell what you are babbling about?" He did not look pleased.

"The wedding, silly. It has to be a big ceremony, since Daddy's going to want to invite lots of his employees. And then there are our friends who will want to come. Oh, and the media will want in on it as well. I have to get the venue lined up, the food, the band, Oh! So many things to do!" She could practically see a vein popping from his head.

"You…mean…this…thing…will…be…public?"

"Well, yeah. That's the only surefire way the whole world will know I'm not single anymore."

He fell off the bed.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed. There will be a few more chapters after this one, so please keep reading. Thank you so much!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hey Again! Finally, a new chapter. I've been so busy with homework and studying that this chapter took a little longer than usual. This chapter was not as inspired as I would have liked it to be, but I still find it amusing. Please enjoy.

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Despite his knowledge of this being the only way to ensure a cease to the competition for his woman, he rather felt like killing something. For weeks the woman had been so busy making phone calls and meeting strange people that he almost believed he was in the middle of a war room. Each detail had to be a certain way or she panicked and had a fit. It was bothersome to say the least. His only option, however, was to withstand the constant torture to his ears since he utterly refused to take part in any of the planning; with the exception of his outfit. It was the one plan she had run by him that he had not left entirely to her.

_"So what do you think about these colors for your tuxedo?"_ She had pulled him aside one day and forced a book of varied tuxedos under his nose. They were colorful and bright, things that opposed him to his core.

_"If you still want me to go through with this thing, you will choose a dark color for me to wear, preferably black or blue. Any bright or obnoxious garment will be shredded and I will then be forced to marry you in my undergarments. Understood?"_ Instead of scolding him, like she usually did when he made a pointed remark, she just laughed and smiled.

_"Okay, no bright colors for you then."_ She had then walked off and not spoken to him about any other details since. Just as well, he thought.

Trunks had been especially cheerful these past few weeks, even so much as to willingly leave his toys for training. The boy, little genius he was, had understood what his mother had meant by "Your daddy and I are getting married." Not yet four years old, and his son comprehended the significance of a mother and father being together. Well, it was to be hoped that genius was not the only skill he inherited from his parents. He would be a great warrior, and that was that.

It was odd, but he had grown fond of his son over the past couple years. His fondness was even greater when he remembered the boy was the reason he had been given the chance to be with the woman he would soon call his mate. The feeling of love was still very foreign to him, but he believed he was starting to know what it was like to have a family.

***

"Why in the world would I wish to participate in such an idiotic ritual?" The months before the wedding had dwindled down to just a few short days. Bulma had not come to him for anymore plans except his tuxedo fitting—black and respectable—and now she was asking him to run around with men he barely tolerated.

She slipped her arms around his neck and smiled deviously. "Because then I won't feel so guilty about my party. I told you, my friends will find a way to throw me a bachelorette party, and there will be half-naked men and alcohol involved." He growled at the mention of any men near her. "Hey, they will simply be there for visual stimulation, nothing more." Her assurance did nothing to lessen his apprehension.

"So, you want me to allow myself to be led about randomly by your male friends so that your own debauchery will settle better in your mind?" He removed her arms from around his neck and crossed his own.

"Well, yes. Besides, you like Yamcha and Krillin, and you can tolerate Oolong and Master Roshi."

"No, I tolerate Yamcha and Krillin, and ignore the pig and that lecherous old fool. The mere thought of having to spend time with the lot of them makes my skin crawl." She tilted her head slightly and gave him the sweetest look she could possibly muster.

"Please? It will only be for one night, and you might even have some fun. You may not think it now, but just give it a chance?" Her sweetness had little effect on him, but her persistence was wearing. Each time he said no, she would argue with him and she could argue for a good, long while. Unfortunately, this issue was too small to justify blowing something up and just walking away, so he supposed he should concede and deal with the consequences later.

He humpfed and gave her a sharp look. "Fine."

***

"Can someone explain the point to this ridiculous event again?" He was watching several small vehicles driving around randomly, doing various tricks and feats. Scantily clad women cheered from the sidelines, encouraging others to do the same. It was like a circus, and he was not amused.

"Relax, Vegeta, you'll see soon enough. Just grab a beer and enjoy yourself." Yamcha pulled a beer from the box he had brought along and tossed it towards him. Despite all his reservations about alcohol in general, he did enjoy the taste of beer. He could finish off the whole case by himself and still not be inebriated, but it would be better to keep the beer from the others who could become intoxicated: there was only so much he could put up with from this lot of people. The pig and the old man had already had their fill of alcohol before the night began, and were currently ogling any woman that walked by. "Yo, Krillin, you want one?"

The short, bald man smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Nah, I can't. You know how mad Eighteen would get if I came back drunk? You should have seen the look on her face when I told her I was going out tonight. If she isn't mad enough at this point, I certainly don't want to piss her off now." The scarred man laughed.

"You are so whipped, my friend. But at least she's not hormonal anymore." Krillin made a noise that was reminiscent of a strangled sigh.

"Yeah, damn, amen to that. I love Marron to death, but she's not going to have any siblings. Eighteen was a walking time bomb when she was pregnant. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not get burnt to a crisp just because I chose the wrong kind of milk." They both laughed.

Yamcha turned back to Vegeta. "I'm not sure how you dealt with Bulma when she was all hormonal. She certainly could raise hell well enough without having feminine issues. You must have an ungodly amount of self-control when it comes to her. I've seen you blow things up just because you didn't like them. And yet you've lived with that fiery woman for years now, and she's very much alive and intact." He could have just ignored the man, drank his beverage in peace, but he was going to be stuck here for another few hours at the least and might as well show a smidgen of civility.

"I train every day, which gives me six to ten hours of female-free time. The rest of the time, I try to avoid her as best I can. If I treat Trunks nicely, that earns me a bit of gratitude on her side, and also makes it easier to deal with her. If all else fails, I yell back. Or, recently, bed her until she cannot see straight." He leaned back against his chair and sipped his drink.

"You know, you two really are perfect for each other. She always yelled at me when she got mad, but I felt horrible yelling back at her. I think she needs someone who can dish it out too."

"Yes, she needs someone who is not a wimp."

"Hey! …I guess I deserved that. Oh, it's starting." The prince looked back at the dirt arena before him and watched as several cars began driving straight for themselves. He was not exactly sure what was going on until he saw and heard the unmistakable crunch of metal against metal. The crowd began cheering louder and louder as more and more cars rammed into each other and attempted to be victorious. Perhaps he could find some amusement in this after all.

***

He smelled her before he saw her. The door had opened very loudly as she finally managed to insert her key into the lock, and a breeze from outside took her scent to him in the kitchen. She smelled heavily of alcohol and aroused females, but far less like males than he had worried she might. She stumbled into the kitchen and he barely caught her before she fell against the table. He sat her in a chair and leaned her against the edge of the table to keep her from falling out.

"Thanksh," she slurred. When he placed the large glass of water in front of her, she grabbed at it greedily and took large, slow sips. "Why aren't you all whee?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher exactly what she meant. "You're all upright. 'Ja not have a good time?" It was difficult to be angry or frustrated with her right now…she was just so pathetic looking.

"Watching rampant destruction was perfectly amusing. If you are wondering why I am not inebriated, my metabolism is such that it would take several cases of beer consumed within an hour to actually affect me." When she cocked her head quizzically, he sighed. "I had 'fun'. Did not get drunk." She smiled and went back to her water. How was it again that he found himself having feelings toward this woman?

When she was done with the water he scooped her up and began climbing the stairs to her bedroom. He tried setting her on her mattress, but she clung to his shirt. She looked up into his eyes, her own pleading. "No, stay." Something pulled at his heart and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his woman still in his arms.

"So, did you have your visual stimulation?" She gave him another puzzled look, but he let her mull it over for a little while. Suddenly, she understood what he meant.

"Oh, you mean the strippers! Yes, they were good. Cute and hot, but they weren't you. I think you're the cutest." Her speech was starting to get a little better, but she would have to sleep this off before she was completely back to normal. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt her lips upon his.

She kissed him a bit sloppily, but he guided her lips carefully and gently. He tasted the alcohol and knew their contact for the night would end with the kiss. She whined when he pulled away. "No more tonight. Go to sleep." He slipped her out of his grasp and deposited her on the mattress. She made an attempt to sit up and grab at him, but all she could actually manage was to turn over on her side. "Good night," he said, closing the door behind him.

***

Her head throbbed relentlessly. She wondered how brides could have bachelorette parties the night before the wedding and still function properly. She clutched her head and used the dining table as a pillow. Nothing had to be done for a few hours, and she fully intended to get her head all in order before anything had to be taken care of. Of course, one of those things walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but his underwear and a towel about his neck.

His skin glistened in the morning, no, afternoon light as he poured himself a glass of water. He usually did not take a break from training until around lunch time, so she must have slept far longer than she wanted to. Still, most of the last minute wedding details could wait.

"I think it's a cruel trick of nature to allow Saiyans to not have hangovers." The prince turned from the counter and smiled amusedly. He took the seat across from hers.

"Oh, you would be surprised. A few kegs of aged alien wine did wonders to me and my men." She smiled and gingerly stroked his hand.

"Thanks." He ignored her fingers against his skin.

"You always thank me for who knows what. Be more specific."

"You know what I'm referring to. You made me drink water last night, and you put me to bed, hard as I tried to refuse you." He shrugged his shoulders.

"I had a suspicion that the contents of your stomach were not going to stay stationary for too much longer, and I very much wanted to avoid being soiled by you." She laughed and stood slowly from her chair, walking around the table to wrap her arms around his neck and chest. He said nothing.

"For all your tough guy quirks, you can be a real sweetie sometimes." She kissed his cheek and lingered for a few seconds.

"EW! Momma an' dada are kissin'," the lavender haired toddler said. She laughed at her son's blatant comment and picked him up. She kissed his cheek too. "EW! Momma's kissin' me!" Unknown to the pair, the stoic prince smiled and laughed in his head, watching his son and his woman, loving them in his own way.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed. The next chapter will be the final chapter, and I do have inspiration for it, so hopefully I can get it up within a couple of weeks.

Shameless Plug: If you have some spare time, please check out my new story "For the Love of a King." I haven't gotten any feedback yet, and I really want to keep writing more on it. But, I need feedback in order to gauge how people like it or not. It's about Vegeta's parents, how they met and all that fun stuff. Don't worry, this won't affect the update of this story, I just want to know how people like/don't like it. Thanks a bunch! :)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! It's a bit belated, but I hope it was worth the wait. This is the final chapter, so please enjoy.

**Warning**: For Mature Adults Only.

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Damned heart. The rapid beating inside his chest gave him a rotten feeling at the pit of his stomach. Dr. Briefs, who had helped him into his tuxedo, had smiled and commented about how it was good to be nervous on the wedding day. Nervousness had nothing to do with his current heart state: embarrassment was the culprit. He had not quite understood the magnitude to which his woman had decided to hold the wedding. Several hundred guests were crammed into the ballroom area, the noise from their errant chatter reaching his ears in the main house quite easily. A many pieced orchestra warmed up their instruments, colorful decorations hung to and fro. And he was to be in the center of all of it. He was a prince, damn it all, not a peacock. At least he had been reassured the ceremony would be quick and painless, and there would be mountains of good food at the reception. None of which, of course, meant a great deal to him at the present.

He was very glad he had set his foot down about his outfit, for he had seen many examples of what passed for fashionable on the guests and threw up a little in his mouth. It was dearly hoped his woman's outfit was respectable. He did not want the image of her in a silly state to be burned into his memory for the rest of eternity.

After he finished fretting over the tightness of the devilish garment about his throat—the damned "bowtie"—he took a deep breath and informed the event coordinator that he was ready to get this over with. Everyone hushed a little when he entered the ballroom, watching him take his place in front of the man who would be performing the marriage ceremony. They hushed even more when he turned to face the crowd. To his left were the two Earthlings, his "groomsmen" as they were called. And then he waited.

***

She wanted to pass out. Or scream. Or something to get rid of the gnawing at her stomach. In less than an hour, she would be married to _Vegeta_, the Prince of All Saiyans, a ruthless warrior who had killed countless people without mercy. The man who had fathered her wonderful child, the man she loved. She took in a deep breath and released it slowly. No more freaking out, she told herself.

Her bridesmaids finished adjusting her veil and her train, and were now waiting around patiently for the ceremony to begin. It had been her feeling that letting Vegeta be the one to determine the start of the ceremony would be much better than rushing an already tense man into something he may or may not be ready for. That, and he liked to be in control. She did as well, but she also could not destroy a planet. So, with that knowledge, she took a drink of water and waited for the event coordinator to come and get her. She did not have to wait long.

Before she knew it, she was being handed an extravagant bouquet and was watching her bridesmaids walk into the ballroom, knowing all eyes were now waiting her presence. She began having a minor panic attack. What if Vegeta decided not to go through with this? What if she was standing up there, professing her heart in front of everyone, and he rejected her? What if she entered the ballroom and he was not there? These questions increased her heart rate greatly, and she was breathing quickly as she walked through the doors. And then she found she had nothing to worry about.

***

The music began and all eyes looked toward the doors, including his. "Bridesmaids" came into the ballroom first, taking their sweet time walking up the aisle and situating themselves opposite him. And then _she_ entered. A short veil obscured her face, but a few stray curls escaped the gauzy material. Her shoulders lay bare, the dress corseted and strapless, with a huge skirt billowing from her waist. He tried to breathe a sigh of relief at knowing she was dressed appropriately, but he found he could not breathe at all. The doctor was at her side, arm linked with hers, but he barely noticed. He barely noticed much of anything after the doctor pulled her veil back to reveal her face.

She handed the large bouquet in her hands to one of her "bridesmaids" and stood next to him, turning to face the minister. The minister began speaking, but he heard little of it. The only time he moved or understood anything was when Bulma turned to him. _The vows!_ This was what he was so nervous about. Damned ritual. He had been given the traditional vows to read over, and had thoroughly disliked much of what they had to say. When he told the woman about his dislike, she had suggested writing their own vows. At first, it had seemed like a good idea. But now, he was not so sure.

"I know we've had our differences, still have many to this day, but one thing I know for sure is that I love you." Her voice was a bit shaky, as though she too were nervous about speaking to him and in front of an audience. "I promise to take care of you in sickness and in health. I promise to give you your space when you need it. And I promise to be on your side when no one else is." He waited for more, but there was none. Simple, to the point, and over. Now it was his turn.

***

She waited for him to speak. She hoped he would speak. If he let her bare her heart to him in front of the crowd for nothing, she was going to kill him.

"You have made promises to me…I will try to be civil to your family and friends. I will try to be a good father to our son. I will try to be a good husband to you. But, the only thing I can promise with all certainty is this: I will protect you and our family from danger and anyone who tries to harm you. You will be safe as long as I am around." His cheeks were tinged pink, but her line of sight was blurred with the tears that welled up in her eyes. For all his toughness, he truly cared.

The minister spoke then. "Very well. If anyone has just cause why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." _Speak now and die,_ she thought. Fortunately, not a sound was heard. "By the powers vested in me by West City, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." The sounds of cheering and applause were drowned out by the pure warmth she felt as Vegeta cupped her chin and gave her the most loving kiss she had ever received.

***

The reception had been very entertaining. Krillin and Yamcha had taken turns telling stories about Bulma when she was just a teenager, turning her face red with embarrassment and anger. He had to smile when she threatened to beat the pair with her heeled footwear. If she had been a Saiyan, she would have been a great warrior. That thought dampened his mood a bit. His family was dead, his old family at least. His father would have approved of his mate, and he knew his mother would be ecstatic. Though they had been weak, he believed he would have been happier today if they were still alive. He would stay alive and keep his mate alive so they would see their son grow up, fall in love, and get married. They would see the warrior he would become, and they would be proud. He would be proud.

His mood had lightened once the food had been served. It was difficult to remain dignified while gorging on the plentiful bounty in front of his, but he tried his best. After food had been served, a few more speeches were given, all about Bulma, and then there was dancing. He sneered at the thought of having all eyes upon him as he danced with his mate, but the dance did not last long and the eyes went about their own business. Finally, as the event drew to a close, he was led outside by his woman. Waiting for them was a helicopter.

"Ready for the honeymoon?" she asked sweetly.

He crossed his arms. "You know, I could fly us anywhere much faster than this contraption." She gave him a small laugh.

"Yes, but then my hair would be a giant mess and my beautiful dress would be crinkled." He sighed and handed her into the helicopter.

The flight lasted only a few hours, during which time neither spoke more than a few words. They landed on a small island devoid of human life. "My father owns this island. We used to come here on family vacations when I was little, but now I think it's better used as our vacation spot."

"I only agreed to two days, woman. Try to keep me away from my training any longer than that, and I will leave you here by yourself." She approached him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Two days is all I need. Now, be a good husband and carry me across the sand into the building." He obliged. Most other days, he might have refused, but tonight he would refuse her nothing.

The building lay nestled within the palm trees. He crossed the sand easily and used the touchpad to open the door, holding his mate effortlessly in one arm. They crossed the threshold, and he immediately sought the bedroom. It was difficult to choose between them, as there were so many.

"The one at the top of the stairs," the woman whispered. Ah, she was just as eager as he. Excellent. He took the steps two at a time and entered the master bedroom. He laid his mate on the edge of the bed, and took a seat beside her. The blankets were soft and inviting. His fingers smoothed over the crook of her neck and gently nudged her lips closer to his. "Vegeta...I have a question." Why did she possess the most abominable timing?

He growled impatiently. "What is it?"

"Well, is there something that I, I mean, you know, that we have to do in order to become real mates?" She clenched her lips together shyly. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, certainly." He moved his lips against her ear and whispered gently. "But we have done that many times." He laughed and took the light swat she delivered to his arm. "Woman, I am not sure what you think constitutes taking a mate for a Saiyan, but you effectively became my mate when you bore my child and I began living with you. I just did not know that until recently. Now, any more questions, or may we enjoy our wedding night?" She shook her head.

One hand deftly worked its way through her hair and removed the pins keeping the veil in place, letting it fall from her curls to the floor. The other hand wrapped itself around the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his. He wasted little time delving within. Their lips moved in time, their tongues gliding sensuously over each other. He felt a hand caress the back of his neck; it grew tighter with each stroke. Continuing to ravage her mouth, he semi-consciously explored her back and began undoing the many hooks that kept her bosom caged. Her hand pulled his head closer to hers, melting their mouths together in a liquid warmth.

His hand finally managed to undo all the hooks and stroked the smooth skin of her back. It explored underneath the last hook, testing the soft flesh of her lower back. He pulled his mouth from hers and pulled her to her feet. With a gentle nudge, the garment fell to the floor. The instant erection floored him. Skimpy white lace decorated her breasts and her mound, the lower blue curls eagerly poking out. Her bright pink nipples, erect and begging to be touched, nearly sprung forth from the small bit of fabric enclosing them.

A finger pulled the bra down, fully exposing the sumptuous breasts. He bent down and took one in his mouth, his arousal growing at her moans of approval. Her fingers moved quickly to unclothe him. The only time she needed his help was when he had to bend over and throw off his shoes and socks. Now he was fully naked and she was wearing too many clothes. He unhooked the bra and pulled the panties from her without objection, and then laid her across the bed, he atop her. He covered her mouth once again, one hand taking turns fondling each nipple and the other playing with the soft curls of her mound. She played as well.

Her slender hands stroked his erect organ, even being so bold as to tease his testicles. He grunted in pleasure and entered her slit with two fingers, causing her to scream. She was so very wet and ready for him, and that knowledge made his grunts and groans even more intense as she caressed his length. He moved his fingers slowly, drawing out her pleasure, not allowing her the release she desired. But, then again, she was doing the same. Finally, she had had enough.

"Vegeta, _please_," she breathed. He removed his fingers, admiring the slickness of them, and positioned himself between her thighs. One hand on her lower back, the other to the side of her head, he plunged himself within her. Now they were both screaming. She bucked her hips with each thrust, bringing her hot core up to meet him. The wetness enveloped his length and sent sensations through each nerve ending. He struggled to keep a steady rhythm. Her legs wrapped around his buttocks and crushed his hips against hers, driving him deeper inside her. He sped up his rhythm and felt her hands tighten against his back: there would be scratch marks there in the morning. Suddenly, she screamed louder than she had been and he felt his length being swallowed by her contractions. He stilled himself as she rode her climax, and quickly thrust once she was done, finding his release easily and spilling inside her.

Both breathed heavily as they separated. He looked over at his mate, who in turn looked back at him. "You know, if sex is this great when we're happy, I can't imagine how amazing our make-up sex is going to be." He smirked and caged her head with his arms.

He gazed at her for a moment and took in her wonderful eyes. This was his mate. Nothing would ever keep them apart again. "You will just have to make me angry and find out."

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked it. Now, there is a planned sequel to this story, but it will not be out for at least six months since I need to watch Dragonball and Dragonball GT before then. (I've just never seen all of Dragonball and want to finish it, whereas GT has pertinent information for the next story.) So, in the mean time, I will still be writing on other stories. I am currently writing "Doctor Doctor" which involves how Dr. and Mrs. Briefs got together, and "For the Love of a King" which basically documents how King Vegeta and the Queen got together and what happened during the Saiyan/Tuffle war. Please, please read them if you have the time. Also, I am planning on putting out "Bedroom Follies" which will be a collection of short chapters about the not-so-awesome moments in many DBZ couples' love lives. Once I finish either "Doctor Doctor" or "For the Love of a King" I will be putting out a Krillin/18 story.

Long story short, there will be plenty to read from me between now and the release of the sequel. Thank you sooooo much to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, alerting, and favoriting. It means a lot to me. Well, until next time. See you later.


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